


thrilled by the still of your hand

by Ellieb3an



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Edging, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26962159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellieb3an/pseuds/Ellieb3an
Summary: People think Suna fell for the “nice” twin, but the truth is Miya Osamu is a bastard with a mean streak that could make his brother look benevolent.It’s the end of the volleyball season, and Suna is more than ready to come home to Osamu for those couple months that the team is on break. The first night back, all he wants is to get Osamu in bed and make up for all that lonely time away from him. Too bad Osamu has always liked to keep people waiting.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 16
Kudos: 478





	thrilled by the still of your hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitcassiachan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitcassiachan/gifts), [Slumber](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/gifts).



> For Kit and Slumber for indulging my rambling about Osamu, who likes to make people wait for his serves, wait for his reactions, wait to see who the real Osamu is until after the timeskip and so, naturally, likes to make them wait for it in bed. 
> 
> I was having a really shitty day and you both got me hype to write this and it helped occupy my brain during a lousy weekend <3

Suna spends most of the year four hours from home. 

Sure, he has a place only fifteen minutes from the court where the Raijin play—-an apartment full of things he’s acquired over several years of living there, a kitchen that he cooks in with ease, a bed that by now knows the shape of him as he sleeps each night. But for the nine to ten months of the year spent in training and the volleyball season—the months he’s here—he’s too far from Osamu to ever call it home.

He loves playing volleyball and loves his job, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to that first time coming back—to Osamu’s home, to his arms that  _ are _ Home—after each season ends. Occasional overnight trips back and daily video calls aren’t enough, and the moment the adrenaline fades after that last match of the year, Suna’s hands stop itching to block a volleyball and start wanting for the feel of Osamu’s warm skin and firm muscle and stupid hat-flattened hair. 

He spends the entire drive to Osaka thinking about their plans for the night, about Osamu wanting to stay in, wanting to have him all to himself just like Suna has been craving. It’s been nearly two months since the last time they could be together, and Suna has needs that his own hand just doesn’t quite meet.

None of this adds up in his head to the current situation, though. Not to his hands bound by a sash to the headboard or to a command that he’s not allowed to touch Osamu back or to Osamu taking his sweet time with Suna’s body, dragging him slowly along the edge of this cliff while refusing to let him climb over.

People think Suna fell for the “nice” twin, but the truth is Miya Osamu is a bastard with a mean streak that could make his brother look benevolent.

Osamu leans over him in the bed, knees straddling his naked hips and one hand pressed firmly to the junction of Suna’s neck and shoulder to keep him in place as his mouth makes slow work of Suna’s nipple. A flick of his tongue, the gentle graze of his teeth as he sucks it into his mouth send ripples of pleasure through Suna. The kind that makes you hungry for more, that promises this is just a taste. But still Osamu takes his time teasing and stimulating, moving to the next to follow up in the same languid fashion.

It’s Osamu’s second hand further south that’s doing the real torture, though, feather light touch toying with Suna’s cock, too faint a motion to even be considered stroking. But every brush of his thumb over the head makes Suna ache to be touched properly.

“I missed ya, Rin,” Osamu says, his voice a deep hum against the skin of Suna’s throat that he’s decided to attack next.

“If you really did, you wouldn’t be so determined to make me wait,” Suna complains before letting out a low whine at the hand curling gently around his cock and pumping him once. Only once, the bastard.

He can feel Osamu’s lips curve against his neck—a smug smile, to be sure. “Nah, that’s  _ exactly _ why I wanna take my time with ya.”

Suna huffs, impatient, wriggling to urge him to pick up an actual rhythm, and Osamu complies… sort of. He gives Suna a few measured strokes before closing his hand around the base of his cock, just tight enough to make him a little bit uncomfortable while his mouth sucks a hickey into the side of Suna’s neck.

Osamu keeps teasing a while longer with nips and kisses and strokes that lead nowhere except to Suna’s cock leaking a generous amount of precum and him growling at Osamu to stop fucking around with him.

Osamu laughs against Suna’s skin, a burst of warm breath tingling against the sensitive space near his hip bone where he’s been working on the latest of likely a dozen lovebites marking Suna as his. He clearly gets a kick out of the frustration and anticipation he’s creating. Back in high school, Suna ended up on the other side of Osamu’s serve enough times to know he liked to keep people waiting. It wasn’t until a couple years later when they got together that Suna realized just  _ how much _ Osamu liked to. 

The grasp on Suna’s cock disappears, which is very much  _ the opposite _ of what he was hoping for, and Suna makes his complaint clear. He tugs his arms, the sash pulling a little tighter against his resistance. “Osamu, you better get back to that, you asshole.”

But Osamu is slicking his fingers with a bottle of lube and is back again, mouth claiming a tender space of inner thigh, one hand against the other leg to nudge him open some more as his other hand reaches between. A single finger drags a line up Suna’s crack before tracing him and pressing delicately without actually entering, and it’s starting to drive him insane as Osamu continues to stroke over and around him.

Suna groans and bucks his hips, and the noise has Osamu pulling his mouth away to stare at him. His hooded eyes are heavy with lust, his lips wet and pink from all the attention they’ve been paying to Suna. He circles his fingertip leisurely again around Suna’s opening and watches with satisfaction as he squirms at the gradual press of that fingertip going further, millimeter by millimeter.

Osamu always does like to savor his food.

He slides the finger in, joined soon by another, pushing and pulling them in and out, drawing moans out of Suna with every thrust. Moans that are cut off by a sharp cry as Osamu’s fingers curl into him in the right spot that sends a jolt through his body.

“ _ Fuck _ .” Suna lifts his hips, trying to fuck himself harder on Osamu’s fingers, and Osamu hums while inserting another, stretching him open some more as his other hand closes around Suna’s cock again. 

_ Finally _ , they’re getting somewhere. As Osamu picks up a rhythm, stroking his cock and his prostate in perfect timing together, Suna feels like he’s climbing higher and higher. Osamu brings him to the precipice, and the pressure mounts low in Suna’s stomach. His toes curl into the sheets as he tries to keep his footing and not lose this perfect angle they’ve found, and his fingers—beginning to numb from the pleasure or the restricted circulation or, probably, both—reach and twist to grab onto the strip of sash that connects his wrists to the bed just to have something to hold onto.

He’s staring up at the ceiling, but his eyes see very little as Osamu’s mouth, warm and wet, kisses his cock and his tongue glides along the slit, lapping up the precum. His cock twitches in Osamu’s hand and mouth, and he exhales shakily. Osamu’s fingers massage into his prostate again and Suna’s mind starts to go fuzzy at the edges. The pressure is too much to contain, heat spreading out from his gut until his entire body feels like it’s on fire and his cock aches with the need to release, to climb over that edge and—

“Not yet,” Osamu warns evenly.

Then the fingers are gone and his hand clamps tight around Suna’s cock, uncomfortable and restricting, halting the pulsating just before the peak, earning a distressed sob.

“Osamu,” Suna hisses, as threatening as he can manage when he’s breathless and completely at Osamu’s mercy—which is not much. He tugs at his restraints and bucks beneath him. Osamu can just let him loose to deal with it himself for all Suna cares, but he just can’t wait like this any longer.

But Osamu shakes his head. “I wanna see that beautiful needy look in yer eye and hear that pleadin’ for more in yer voice for as long as I can before I let ya have it.”

Once it’s obvious Suna isn’t about to blow his load anymore, Osamu releases his cock. His hands travel along Suna’s sides, and even those simple touches tingle like electricity against his skin now. One hand settles against Suna’s cheek, thumb pulling down on his lower lip.

“So are ya gonna say ‘please’?” His voice is low and gruff and Suna hates the way his body betrays him by responding with the chill that shoots down his spine when all he wants to do is punch him in the face and jerk himself off. Probably not in that order. 

Suna glares at him and opens his mouth to tell Osamu to fuck off but instead Osamu’s mouth is on his, tongue practically fucking his mouth with the amount of force he puts into the kiss. His other hand teases at Suna’s cock again, and fuck it, yes, dignity be damned, he is going to plead.

His voice sounds so unlike him when his mouth is freed and he finally finds the ability to speak. “Osamu, I need—”

Osamu’s thumb presses against his hole.

“ _ Fuck _ , I...” Suna is trembling everywhere, and his legs feel weak supporting him angling up to encourage Osamu’s touch. 

“I wanna hear it from ya.” One finger prods around inside Suna, not nearly enough to fill the emptiness left behind by Osamu already, and his other hand brandishes the bottle of lube like he’s dangling a bone over a dog’s nose.

Suna growls. “For fuck’s sake, Osamu, fuck me right now.”

“Whaddya say?” Osamu is generous with spreading the lube over his cock but stingy about putting it where it belongs even though Suna can see the way it twitches when Suna gasps at the second finger pushing into him.

What Suna wouldn’t give to get a hand on each of their cocks right now and do the work for him.

“ _ Please.” _

Osamu makes up for taking his sweet time before by taking no time at all—not even for Suna’s sake—as he thrusts right into him, and whatever little control Suna has over himself is gone now. It’s a good thing Osamu’s apartment is over his currently empty restaurant, because if he shared an apartment complex with anyone else, they’d be treated to a chorus of Suna’s cries right now. Eventually, Osamu shuts him up with his mouth. 

The climb is faster this time, together with Osamu when his own body is a mess over oversensitive nerves. It’s like shockwaves moving through Suna’s body every time Osamu bottoms out, and the sound of Osamu’s moans drive Suna mad. It isn’t that long before Suna’s stomach tightens and his legs tremble wrapped around Osamu’s waist. He’s so close that it aches everywhere. He can’t control the way he tenses around Osamu, and even that just makes the dizzying rush of pleasure that much more intense.

But Osamu can tell, and the hand on his cock squeezes under the head, tightening too much to let him orgasm. “Gettin’ close, huh?” he chides breathlessly as Suna practically screeches his frustration. “But now ya gotta wait for me, too.”

Suna can’t formulate a response to snap back at him, just gasps and whines and glares at him. It’s completely mind-numbing there on the cusp, being held back only by his asshole boyfriend who’s now taking a slower pace to keep him at bay, and even that is pushing Suna past his breaking point.

But apparently this is enough for Osamu. He must’ve enjoyed enough tormenting Suna, because Suna can feel the twitching of his cock inside him and hear his heaving stuttering breaths as he approaches his own climax. By the time he lets go of Suna’s cock, the heat has built up so much that Suna is sure he would’ve exploded anyway.

Osamu drives home and the orgasm crashes into Suna harder than it ever has before, so overwhelming that Suna loses all sense of time and place and knows nothing but the stars in his vision, the sticky mess spilling against his stomach, the heat pulsing into him, and the wet mouth sucking at his collarbone.

He isn’t sure how long they lie there for but when awareness starts to come back to him, his fingers and toes still feel like they’re filled with static and his head is too heavy. Osamu is withdrawing himself from between Suna’s legs, reaching up and untying the sash. 

“Fucker,” Suna says, his voice sounding as scratchy and raw as his throat feels.

Osamu looks a little smug and satisfied. Mostly, he looks fucked out and content and gentle as he lies down alongside Suna and holds his hands between them to massage some feeling back into them. 

“I hate you,” Suna says, but he closes his eyes and sighs.

There’s a kiss against his wrist. “No ya don’t.”

“No. I don’t."


End file.
